


Account for Friendship

by StarCollector88



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-08 01:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16419701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCollector88/pseuds/StarCollector88
Summary: After a disagreement, the guys find themselves having to work together to get out of a compromising situation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My stories contain references to my previous stories.

The tension in the room was palpable. No one was breathing a word to each other. The lingering silence and enraged glares that were passed between three roommates (and one looking defeated) at the breakfast table were more telling than any words that could be uttered. And yet, the silence had to break at some point.  
"Peter, can you please ask Davy to pass the milk? That is if he doesn't tend to steal it like he did with my date last night!" Micky asked indignantly.  
"Peter, can you tell Micky that if he wants something then he needs to put in the effort to keep it. It's not my fault that he can't hold someone's interest," Davy answered arrogantly.  
"For God sakes Peter, can you tell Davy and Micky to be adults about things and actually talk things out? Unlike last night when they made fools of themselves, and cost us future job opportunities!" Mike chimed in with his voice growing louder with each word.  
Peter's head was whipping back and forth with the continued banter between his roommates. They were all talking at once, but not to each other. Peter was the go between ever since the debacle at a gig two nights ago...  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The guys had booked a gig playing at a nightclub The Bungalow. If the owner liked their performance there was a chance that they would have standing gig for the foreseeable future, which of course meant money in the bank. The set seemed to be progressing quite well and the crowd was responding positively to the music.   
During a midway break, Micky began chatting up a girl at the bar that he had invited to the show to hear them play. Micky was romantically interested in her and planned to ask her on a date at the show. He excused himself to the restroom only to come back to find Davy sitting in his place next to the girl with interlocked fingers. He approached the pair in time to hear Davy ask, “Would you like to go out tomorrow night?”  
Micky in that moment had had enough of Day's sense of entitlement when it came to girls. Micky tapped him on the shoulder, "What do you think you're doing, small fry?" with grit in his voice.  
"What?” Davy asked in general confusion looking his bandmate up and down. Then it hit him that Micky had insulted his height. “Who are you calling small fry you scarecrow?"   
“Congratulations, you’re wittier than the bully that tormented me in the third grade. You should be so proud,” Micky shot back.  
With that the two broke into a knock-down, drag out physical fight. The girl stood up and left the bar, not wanting to be involved in such a scene. Mike and Peter were standing in the corner of the room speaking about a song they were collaborating on writing, when they heard the commotion and headed over.  
Mike had to pull them apart as Peter looked on with tears in his eyes. Mike had fire in his eyes as he held up his younger counterparts by the shirt collars, both wriggling to try and free themselves from his grip. Mike went to open his mouth to reprimand the two when the manager approached looking like a combination annoyed and flabbergasted.  
“What is the meaning of this?” he roared.  
“Well you see sir…” Mike began, as he let go of the other guys, trying to think quickly about how they would get out of this one unscathed.  
“It’s performance art, Sir,” Peter offered weakly.  
“Performance art?” the manager asked still exasperated, tapping his foot with arms crossed.  
“Yes, during the break…we…try to liven the place up again…so they will stay for the entertainment,” Peter stumbled. “Everyone loves a spectacle. We are trying to keep them coming back for more.”  
“That’s not really the image we are trying to portray here at The Bungalow,” the manager said seeming to cool down a bit. “Why don’t you all just finish your set without any more surprises.”  
“Certainly, Sir,” Mike blew out a sigh of relief.  
Mike and Peter made their way to the band stand as Micky and Davy eyed each other with contempt. Davy turned on his heel to start heading towards the band stand as well, when Micky stuck out his foot and tripped the Englishman. Davy hit the floor like a ton of bricks, smacking his chin on the concrete floor and causing a bleeding gash. Micky smugly stepped over his fallen frenemy to stroll away. Suddenly, he was on his way down too as Davy grabbed Micky’s ankle and pulled him toward the floor.  
Mike, hearing the crash, turned around in time to see Micky hit the floor. Mike took large strides to prevent the inevitable from happening. But, he was too late; Davy used Micky’s leg to pull himself up to the drummer and started the fight where they had left off earlier. Mike used his legs to kick the two apart when he heard a booming voice ring out behind him, “That’s it! Get out of this club NOW!”  
Not any of Mike’s smooth talking could calm the manager down. He was clear that The Monkees were not welcome back to even be customers at The Bungalow. And there would be no payment due to an unfinished job as well as a couple of broken bar stools.   
Mike was seething as he packed up the instruments and threw those as well as his brawling bandmates into the Monkeemobile. “What the hell were you two thinking? You cost us tonight’s money as well as future opportunities here. What do you have to say for youselves?” Mike barked.  
Peter peeked into the backseat from the passenger’s seat to see Micky and Davy sitting on opposite ends of the seat in order to make no contact with each other; arms folded and staring out their respective windows. No one made a sound.  
Mike broke the silence, “WELL?!?”  
Micky and Davy both jumped at the outburst and said in unison, “It was all his fault…My fault!”  
“I don’t care who’s fault you think it is,” Mike scolded. “You both made fools of yourselves and of Peter and I. You should be ashamed and sorry.”  
“I’m not sorry because I was just standing up for myself,” Davy said. “Why not yell at this brute over here? He’s the one with the anger issues.”  
“I swear to God, Jones don’t start with me again,” Micky said through gritted teeth, “or there will hell to pay.”  
“There will hell to pay from both of you if you don’t start trying to make this right,” Mike was getting angrier by the second.  
There was utter silence throughout the car. Peter turned back around and sank down into the seat not knowing what to do. He doubted anything he had to say would matter and he didn’t want to risk anyone getting mad at him. Peter would take no sides, he was Switzerland.  
“Fine!” Mike snapped putting the car in drive and peeling out of the parking lot.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
With the constant bickering and back and forth between his roommates, Peter couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and slammed his hands on the table. Abruptly the talking stopped and all eyes were on Peter. With that Switzerland waved his white flag in the form of running into their shared bedroom and locking the door.  
“Now look what you’ve done!” Mike, Micky, and Davy all reprimanded at the same time. “What I’ve done!”  
There were silent scowls around the table for few moments. “Now I know we have all been at each other’s throats for the past few days,” Mike finally said gavel in hand. “And I am by no means ready to forgive and forget, but we have things to do today and can’t have Peter locked away. Let’s put up a united front to get him out of the bedroom and go where we need to go.”  
“Then can we go back to hating each other?” Micky said glaring at Davy.  
“Why are you glaring at me?” Davy asked his voice dripping with contempt.  
“I’m hoping you’ll spontaneously combust.”  
“Grow up!” Davy retorted.  
“Knock it off! Now can you two form a truce for Peter’s sake, for at tops an hour?” Mike tried to keep his cool.  
“Fine,” Micky and Davy both answered irritably.   
They all trudged up the spiral staircase and Mike knocked softly on the bedroom door. “Hey Shotgun, mind if we come in?”  
“No! I can’t take the arguing anymore. I can’t be the go between,” Peter sobbed.  
“We’re sorry Peter. We are going to start moving on from this,” Davy lied.  
“Yeah we are making a truce,” Micky added, “even though everyone knows the British can’t be trusted with that kind of stuff.”  
Mike elbowed Micky in the ribs. “What do you say, Pete? Willing to come out and go with us on our errands today? We have to go to the bank and try to get a loan to stay financially afloat.”  
The three waited on the other side of the door listening for movement. After two minutes, the door opened a crack and the bassist peeked out, eyes glistening with tears. “Hug.”  
“Excuse me?” Davy asked.  
“You heard me,” Peter answered deadpan. “If you’re all serious, hug.”  
They stared at each other wide eyed. Before anyone knew it Micky squished Mike and Davy into a big, tense group hug. He whispered under his breath, “Make it convincing. I want smiles people.” Mike and Davy forced tight, uncomfortable smiles on their faces.  
They heard the door creak open the rest of the way and Peter was on top of them in the embrace. “I knew you all would come to your senses.”


	2. Chapter 2

The men approached the First National Bank. Mike, Micky, and Davy had been acting sickeningly sweet to each other since Peter exited the bedroom. Mike now held the bank door open and Micky and Davy were debating who should go in first.  
“After you, Micky,” Davy bowed.  
“Oh no I insist you handsome devil, you first,” Micky replied.  
“No, no I insist the best musicians first,” Davy countered.  
“Oh then that’s me,” Peter said passing the other two. Micky and Davy stared at him with mouths agape.  
“Would you two just get in here before a line forms behind you,” Mike said trying to stay calm.  
Micky and Davy then both tried to enter at the same time and got stuck in the door frame. Mike pulled them inside and the three fell in the middle of the bank lobby with all employees and patrons staring at them. “Can we try to act normal,” Mike said getting up and brushing himself off, “This is how we got in trouble in the first place…on the floor.”  
Micky and Davy got up and joined Peter in the waiting area. Mike went and checked them in to meet with a loan officer when he returned from lunch. Mike then joined the other three in the waiting area. Mike took a seat next to Peter on a bench and Micky and Davy sat together on a bench across from them. Micky was drumming his hands on his lap and humming a tune. Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered anyone else, but being on edge and not too keen on each other at the moment it was getting on Davy’s nerves.  
“Could you stop that?” asked Davy rolling his eyes.  
“Nope,” Micky egged him on.   
“Don’t you have to go be annoying somewhere else?” Davy took the bait.  
“Not until four,” Micky countered.  
“Is no one else bothered by this incessant childish behavior?” Davy pressed.  
“Ignoring everyone in the room is how I’m getting through this,” Mike answered sarcastically and continued flipping through a magazine he found on the table next to him.  
“I don’t mind it,” Peter replied unaware of the boiling point this situation was about to reach.  
“Well, Micky, your existence gives me a headache go sit over there,” the Brit continued.  
“Fine. Maybe I will start writing my ad for the classifieds. ‘Now accepting applications for new partners in crime. Must be fluent in smart-ass, sarcasm, and southern twang. Questionable morals and small stature may be required’,” Micky provoked.  
“Can I ask a dumb question?” Peter interjected.  
“Better than anyone I know,” Davy said under his breath. Mike shot him a death stare.  
“Did you guys not really make up?” Peter asked not hearing Davy’s comment. “Because you still seem to be berating each other.”  
“Give that man a prize,” Micky said sarcastically.  
“Why would you guys do that?” Peter asked disappointed.  
“Listen man, we had things to get done today and we had to do them together. In order to get you on board with this we had to put on a façade,” Mike said more gruffly than he meant to.  
Peter stood up, “Well done, guys. Now I’m not on speaking terms with you three either. It’s going to be interesting trying to get through the days without your mouthpiece.” With that Peter went to sit in the seats furthest away from the others and turned his back to them.  
“At least Micky stopped that annoying tapping,” Davy broke the silence.  
“Do you feel guilty? Like at all?” Mike said bitingly.  
“I don’t have time to feel guilty. And neither do you,” Davy replied. “Remember, Micky is the one who started this in the first place by attacking me.”  
Before Micky could make another snide remark, the doors of the bank swung open with a loud bang.


	3. Chapter 3

The Monkees all turned their heads to the front door of the bank to see the source of all the commotion. There were seven men dressed in pinstripe suits standing in a line in front of the now closed doors. All the men held guns.  
“Alright!” said the pinstriped man in the middle. “This is a stick up! Boys, barricade the doors. No one gets out!”  
Peter sprung up from his seat across the room and joined his bandmates in a fearful embrace. The embrace didn’t last too long though, because all of them remembered their disdain for each other and backed away straightening their clothes out as they did so.   
After the doors were sealed shut and guarded by one of the criminals, the other members of the gang spread out to survey the scene. There were two bank tellers behind the counter and the Monkees in the waiting area. Everyone else that had been in the bank when the band arrived had conveniently left before the robbers entered.  
“I need to see the manager of this joint,” the same man spoke again, he was presumably the leader.  
From a door adjacent to the bank counter, a middle-aged balding man with glasses entered the room. “I’m Mr. Webster. What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked trying to keep his composure.  
“Isn’t it obvious, Webster? We want all the money you’ve got in this place. Open the vault!” the leader replied angrily.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The Monkees looked on in panic at the scene that was unfolding before them. They watched as the leader of the bank robbery gang berated Mr. Webster with questions about the vault.  
“How do we keep getting into these situations?” Davy whispered nervously.  
“Four years of friendship and I still don’t know,” Micky replied.  
“So Mike, what’s our exit strategy?” Davy asked hopefully.  
“Our what?” the Texan said looking confused.  
“We’re all gonna die!” Davy moaned.  
“No we’re not,” Micky cut in, “I may have a plan. On a scale from one to ten, how bad do you think it would be if…”  
“At least twenty,” Mike interrupted. “Now look, no one has even noticed or approached us yet. I say we keep as low as a profile as possible, that way there may be a chance to slip out of the room and look for another exit.”  
“See like I said exit strategy,” Davy said.  
“Are we in agreement?” Mike asked. “We have to put all of our other stuff aside to survive. Deal?”  
“Deal,” Davy and Micky answered.  
“Pete?” Mike inquired.  
Peter sat in silence not making eye contact with anyone.   
“I get it, he’s still mad,” Mike said. “I’ll take his silence as an agreement, I guess.”  
“Hey!” a barking voice startled the band out of their conversation. “Stop talking, this isn’t a beauty parlor!”  
“If it was, you would think we’d all be better looking,” Micky joked.  
Mike shot Micky a warning look as the henchman walked away. “What did I say man, low profile!”  
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I always make lame jokes when I’m nervous,” Micky apologized.  
“As opposed to all the winning jokes you make when you’re not,” Davy added sarcastically.  
Micky raised his fist to the Brit and then brought it back down rather quickly. “Survival is more important than knocking your teeth out…for now,” he said sticking his hand out to shake Davy’s. “Truce?”  
“Truce,” Davy said taking his hand and wincing.  
“What’s wrong?” Micky asked.  
“I think you broke my fingers,” Davy answered rubbing his hand.  
“Better your fingers than your face,” Micky said under his breath.  
“Would you three shut up!” the leader yelled at them from across the bank lobby.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Now Webster, I need you open that vault,” the leader said pointing his gun at the bank manager.  
“I can’t do that,” Mr. Webster replied quietly.  
“Why not?!? Trying to be a hero?” the leader seethed.  
“No,” Mr. Webster continued. “I don’t have access to the vault. Only the bank owner does. Every morning he gets us the supplies we need and we always have to call him for everything.”  
“I think your lying! What’s the combination?” the leader pressured by putting the gun closer to the bank manager’s head.  
Mike had enough of this and stood up to move toward the aggressive scene.  
Micky grabbed his arm on his way, “Mike, what are you doing?”  
“Cool it I have a plan,” Mike said as he continued to approach the leader and Webster. They both eyed the young musician curiously as he stepped closer.  
“Mind your business, long-haired weirdo!” the leader spat.  
“Whoa, whoa, what’s with the hostility, Mr.…?” Mike began.  
“Spider Murphy,” the leader finally introduced himself. “Leader of the Purple Flower Gang.”  
“Ironic,” Micky whispered to Davy.  
“Why are your flowers white?” Mr. Webster asked the famous question.  
“Do you know how hard it is to find purple flowers?” Mike and Spider said in unison.  
Spider looked at Mike questioningly.   
“Lucky guess,” Mike saved himself. “Now Spider, what’s with all this violence? Can’t we get our point across in a more peaceful manner? Like politely asking for the combination to the vault. You catch more flies with honey, you know.”  
Spider was intrigued. “Go on.”  
“It just so happens that I know the vault combination,” Mike continued.  
Davy and Micky exchanged confused, worried glances as they looked on. Peter still sat stone faced.  
“Can I please have the combination to the vault?” Spider asked with a phony cheerfulness.  
“See how much better that was?” Mike said. “You don’t strike me as a professional criminal with those manners.”  
“That’s what makes me so good at it. Now the combination, please?”  
“Sure, it is 9-8-4-7.”  
One henchman went to the vault to attempt the combination. Everyone looked on with bated breath. After the third try, the vault still hadn’t budged. Mike slowly slinked back to his seat.  
Spider whipped around to find the wool hat wearing musician. “What was that some kind of joke?”  
Davy leaned over and whispered to his friends, “What was the purpose of that?”  
“Well this is our fanfiction story, I thought maybe the combination would be a Monkees reference,” Mike admitted.  
“Oh, makes sense,” Davy said.  
A booming voice made them all jump. “You’ve all been nothing but trouble since we’ve got here…”   
Just then the sound of sirens permeated through the bank as blue and red lights flashed through the windows.   
“I hope we draw the attention of the FBI,” Micky said excitedly  
“Are you crazy?” Davy insulted the drummer.  
“I’ve never seen anyone kick a door in before. It would be so exhilarating,” Micky answered.  
“Someone must have tripped the silent alarm! We need to let them know that this is a hostage situation and our demands must be met. Johnny Mauve and Johnny Amethyst,” Spider said speaking to the henchman by the front door, “take one of the tellers out there and let the cops know we mean business. Johnny Violet and Johnny Lilac you take two of these troublemakers, and Johnny Lavender and Johnny Plum you take the other two…”  
“I get it their names are shades of purple,” Davy said.  
“The four of them together are a problem. Maybe separated they will be less of a nuisance. Make sure they can’t get out.”  
With that the henchmen took Micky and Davy in one direction and Mike and Peter in another.


	4. Chapter 4

“Peter, what are you doing?” Mike inquired.  
He was met with an all too familiar silence. “C’mon, Shotgun. I know you’re angry at us still, but we need to communicate in order to get out of this.”  
After they were separated from Micky and Davy, Mike and Peter were taken into another room and handcuffed. Mike was handcuffed to the chair since he was “a wise guy” and Peter just had his wrists cuffed together and was able to fully move about the room. Mike heard the henchmen lock the door from the outside and there were no windows.  
“Michael,” Peter finally broke his vow of silence, “you guys really hurt me. I just want to keep the peace between all of us. I hate being lied to and made to look like a fool.”  
“I’m sorry, Peter. I guess indirectly I got us into this mess in the first place,” Mike said with his head down. “If we had not deceived you we probably wouldn’t even have come here today and therefore not in this predicament.”  
“Mike, don’t blame yourself,” Peter said looking at his friend. “You could not have possibly known this would happen. Also, there was a chain of events that made us have to come to the bank to begin with. I guess we’re all to blame.”  
“Everyone, except you. You did nothing wrong,” Mike said happy that they were finally back to normal. “Now, what are you doing?”  
“Eating,” Peter answered as he removed his head from the employee break room fridge.  
“We’re being held hostage and you decide to raid the kitchen?”  
“They didn’t say the fridge was off limits. Want some yogurt?”  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
“On a scale from one to ten, how bad do you want to kill me right now?” Micky asked trying to make conversation with his annoyed companion.  
“I’m lingering somewhere in the high thirties,” Davy deadpanned. “Why did you have to step on those big goons’ feet?”  
“That was my plan to try to escape,” Micky said. “Hurt them to create a diversion and run. But plan Tapioca Tundra didn’t go the way I thought.”  
“Tapioca Tundra? What does that have to do with anything?” Davy said confused.  
“What? I can’t keep coming up with song titles that match all my plans,” Micky answered. “Plus if Mike’s going to give his songs off the wall titles, then I can give my plans them too. Sometimes there’s not much to work with.”  
“You’re insane, you know that?”  
“I know! Isn’t it great?”  
“When this is all over I want my sanity back, because I’m sure to lose it hanging around you,” Davy uttered. “So how are we going to get out of this one?”  
After Micky’s antics of trying to escape, the henchmen saw the two as a “flight risk” and had to take “drastic measures.” These measures meant sitting the two musicians down on floor on opposite sides of a pole in the bank’s storage room. They were tied back to back, with their hands tied in front of them and also tied at the knees and ankles.  
“Sorry, fresh out of brilliant ideas,” Micky said.  
“Thank goodness, that’s not what I was looking for anyway,” Davy answered irritably. “I was looking for a rational plan that might actually work.”  
“You know, you’re a tad bit angry,” Micky said. “I’m starting to think you have a problem with me.”  
“What tipped you off?” Davy replied sarcastically.  
“It could be the hostile attitude,” Micky stung back.  
“Well, am I supposed to be all amiable to the person that started pummeling me at the gig the other night,” Davy said.  
“Listen, I was furious that you were talking to the girl I was pursuing,” Micky admitted in an attempt to move forward.  
“How am I supposed to know she is your girl if you don’t say anything?” Davy asked. “I can’t help that she invited me over to sit with her.”  
“She did?”  
“Yeah, Mick and I swear I didn’t know,” Davy said.  
“I’m sorry, Davy. You didn’t deserve any of the grief I’ve been giving you the past few days,” Micky apologized.  
“I’m sorry too, Micky. I haven’t exactly been making things any easier,” Davy admitted.  
“Well, looks like this means we are partners in crime again,” Micky said.  
“Interesting choice of words,” Davy mused. “I have no clue how to escape these ropes.”  
“Yes, these crooks are far better at knots than anyone I know,” Micky said struggling to free himself. “I wish Mike were here, he was a boy scout.”  
“I hope Peter and Mike are faring better than we are,” Davy said tolerating the uncomfortable movements from his former frenemy.


	5. Chapter 5

Mike noted that he and the others had likely been separated from each other for over an hour now. He had been racking his brain for all that time trying to figure out a way for them to escape this room and eventually the bank. He had remembered that the hallway that they were led down was secure since it held bank and customer information. It was also more expansive than one would think. Mike thought that if they could escape it was likely that Spider wouldn’t be able to hear anything.  
But how? Were they being guarded by one of the Johnny Purples or not? And if they weren’t, were Micky and Davy? Would they be able to free their friends? Were Micky and Davy already working on a plan or free? Too many questions and none could be answered while being handcuffed to a chair that was anchored to the floor.  
Peter was taking all of this in stride as was his normal characteristics. He was examining the spoon he had used to eat his yogurt. “You know,” Peter said, “if Davy had this he would be checking out his reflection, basking in his splendor.”  
That clicked something inside Mike. “That’s it, Shotgun!” he shouted enthusiastically.  
“What’s it?” Peter said startled at Mike’s sudden outburst since he had been deep in thought for most of their imprisonment.  
“Use the spoon to see if there is anyone guarding our room,” Mike said.  
“How am I supposed to do that?” Peter asked confused. “Knock and ask if anyone’s out there?”  
“No, no,” Mike said shaking his head. “Slide the spoon under the door and use the reflection to look down both sides of the hall to see if anyone’s out there.”  
“You know Mike, that’s just crazy enough to work,” Peter said making his way to the door. He got down low to the ground and stuck the spoon in the space between the door and the floor. He turned the spoon over and studied both sides of the hallway.  
“Well…” Mike urged.  
“To the right, I don’t see anything,” Peter answered. “To the left, further down in front of another door there is someone sitting in a chair.”  
“That must be the place where Micky and Davy are,” Mike said. “Something tells me that Micky did something to get those two guarded more heavily than us.”  
“What makes you say that?” Peter asked.  
“It’s Micky,” Mike said. “What do you notice about the guard?”  
“I can’t tell too much for sure, because I’m using a spoon and he’s too far away,” Peter said. “But I do think he’s sleeping, because he’s slouched over.”  
“Perfect,” Mike said. “Now what I need you to do is look around in the cabinets and drawers for something to pick the locks on these cuffs and the door.”  
Peter’s face dropped, “Michael, you know I don’t like to use those skills unless the situation is an emergency.”  
“What would you call this?” Mike said exasperated.  
“Desperation,” Peter answered.   
“Just do it and I won’t tell anyone about it,” Mike promised.  
Peter began rummaging around in the drawers until he found a few different options that were to his liking. He had a butter knife, paper clips, a toothpick, and fork.  
“Usually on handcuffs, I can find a small pinhole to release the cuffs without a key,” Peter said bending down to examine Mike’s handcuffs. “I just need to find it and see which item will fit.”  
“Peter, your random knowledge amazes me,” Mike said.  
Before Mike could say anything else, he heard a click and his wrists were free. He rubbed his wrists and moved them around a little before turning to Peter to be instructed as to how to free the bassist.   
“Why did it take me so long to think of this plan?” Mike wondered aloud as he snapped Peter’s handcuffs open.  
“Fear clouds the mind,” Peter answered absently as he turned his attention to picking the door’s lock. “Done.”  
“I forgot how fast you were at this,” Mike said in astonishment.  
“Well, forget again because this isn’t happening again for a while,” Peter warned. “Now let’s go rescue some Monkees.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Meanwhile in a room down the hall…  
Micky had tired himself out trying to free himself. He was slumped over panting. “You know, you’d think with our past history of kidnappings and dealing with criminals we would be able to get out of this lickety split.”  
“Apparently, we don’t learn much,” Davy said as he took over trying to loosen his bindings. “If we were going to learn anything it would be to avoid these types of situations altogether.”  
“True, but then how would we entertain the masses,” Micky joked.  
“I’m glad to see that this situation has not broken your spirit,” Davy said rolling his eyes. “This is pointless. No sharp edges, no loose spots of rope. I think we’ve finally found something we can’t get ourselves out of.”  
Just then, they heard the door creak open and quietly close. Only Micky was facing the door. “I don’t believe it.”  
“What? I can’t see!” Davy tried to swivel his head see.  
“Don’t hurt yourself, Tiny,” Mike said making his presence known.  
Mike and Peter both took out knives and began working at the thick ropes restraining their bandmates.  
“Where did you get those?” Micky asked.  
“We were being held in the bank break room with a full kitchen,” Peter answered as he sawed.  
“How did you get out?” Davy inquired.  
Mike and Peter made eye contact. “We didn’t have it nearly as bad as you two,” Mike said vaguely. “What did you do anyway Micky to get this VIP treatment?”  
“Not important,” Micky dismissed the question as he moved around his now free legs.  
“Let’s just say he angered the goons while trying to make a break for it,” Davy said rubbing the rope burns on his wrists.  
“I told you he did something Peter,” Mike said with a chuckle.  
“Are we being guarded?” Micky asked.  
“Well, you guys were because of that stunt you pulled,” Peter answered. “But he was sleeping so it made it easy for us to sneak in here.”  
With that the last of the ropes fell to the floor and Micky and Davy were able to stand up and stretch. The Monkees quickly formed a huddle to discuss their next moves.  
“So what’s next Mike?” Micky inquired.  
“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” The Texan admitted.  
“And you won’t,” said a voice from behind.


	6. Chapter 6

The six henchmen entered the large storage room. The four Monkees stood back to back watching the thugs.  
“This isn’t good,” Mike said.  
“How can you tell?” Peter inquired.  
“See how they’re slowly surrounding us? And they all have guns and knives and I think one guy is carrying a machete,” Mike answered.  
“We have five people trying to kill us right now, what are we supposed to do?” Micky asked.  
“Actually, it’s more like six,” Davy corrected.  
“Oh, sorry I wasn’t specific enough!” Micky snapped.  
The henchmen began rapidly approaching the four musicians with rage in their eyes.  
“What now?” Micky whispered.  
“I need you all to turn our small circle to the left and keep going at a steady pace with my lead,” Peter said removing something from his pocket.  
With no time to ask questions, the other three did what they were asked. They watched as Peter used a yo-yo while spinning around to knock all the weapons out of the henchmen’s hands. Everyone looked on in stunned silence.  
Before the henchmen could gather their wits about them again, Peter yelled out, “Romp!”  
The other three Monkees ran around distracting and confusing the henchmen, while Peter took their captors out one-by-one with martial arts moves. Davy ran around boxes and stopped and hid every once in a while to bewilder his pursuers. Micky climbed onto high spaces, out of reach of those chasing him. And Mike was using the ropes, previously used to restrain Micky and Davy, to trip up anyone who dared come near him, which was a problem for Micky one time.   
After all the henchmen were down for the count, the Monkees stood around assessing the damage.  
“Peter, you just took down six men, what do you have to say for yourself?” Micky said.  
“Oops?” Peter said shrugging.  
“Way to put that Assassins Camp training to good use,” Mike teased. “Must have been an emergency.”  
Peter looked down sheepishly.  
“Okay fellas,” Davy said changing the subject. “What now? All the henchmen are down, so now we have the numbers to take down Spider.”  
“What are we waiting for,” Mike said. “Let’s go save this bank!”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The Monkees entered the bank lobby to find it deserted. The door was still barricaded shut. They could hear talking coming from the direction of the bank vault. The band slowly and quietly approached the now open vault and began listening to the conversation being had inside.  
“I gotta hand it to you, Webster,” Spider said. “This was the perfect plan. Working together to create a faux bank robbery and take an undetectable amount of money. And pin it on any poor saps that happen to be in here.”  
“Thank you, thank you,” Webster replied. “We lucked out that those long haired weirdoes happened to be in here. The police are sure to believe that they were behind this. And we will travel far away before anyone’s the wiser.”  
“Those bank tellers won’t sell us out, will they?” Spider asked.  
“Please, what kind of mastermind do you take me for?” Webster scoffed. “Those are my daughters.”  
The guys stepped back from the vault. With mouths wide open.  
“I can’t believe that Webster was in on this the whole time,” Davy exclaimed.  
“And they planned to pin this on us,” Peter added.  
“Why is it always us?” Micky wondered aloud.  
“I’ve been asking myself the same question since I met you three,” Davy said.  
“Wait a minute fellas,” Mike said. “They are all comfortable in there, because they think we are still confined.”  
“I think I know what you’re getting at Mike,” Micky said. “You want me to come up with a brilliant idea.”  
“No that is a sure way to get us back where we were before,” Davy said.  
“No,” Mike said. “Follow my lead.”  
The guys crept back up to the vault and listened.  
“We’ll tell the police that we worked together and caught the crooks and we have them tied up in the back,” Webster chuckled at the brilliancy of his plan.  
“First, we have to let my gang out a backway so that it doesn’t look suspicious,” Spider said.  
“Going to be pretty tough when you’re locked in this vault,” Mike yelled as all four Monkees pushed the heavy vault door sealing it shut before Spider and Webster could even realize what was going on.  
They all leaned against the vault door exhausted from this long ordeal. Everyone was breathing heavily and looked worse for wear, with messed up hair and rumpled clothing.  
“I guess it’s time to let the police know the perpetrators have been apprehended,” Mike said dusting off his hands.  
“Good work, men,” Peter said. “Is it safe to say this time, we really have set aside our differences and are back to normal?”   
“Definitely, Peter,” Mike said.  
“We work better as a quartet rather than four solo acts,” Davy said. “Right, Mick?”  
Micky was standing in silence staring off into space.  
“Earth to Micky. Come in Micky,” Davy said waving his hand in front of the drummer’s face.  
“Oh yeah, I’m here,” Micky replied absently. “I was just wondering if I could get a song out of all this.”


End file.
